Beyond Fixing
by freddikinsburkle
Summary: Angelus is back, and his target? None other than little miss Winifred Burkle. Angel can't save her this time, and besides: How does one return from the damage caused by loss of trust?
1. Hiding

FRED

Fred was hiding. On many occasions, she would have denied completely that this was what she was doing, but this time was different; she was perfectly willing to admit that she was hiding. She had gathered up as much food as she could carry from the kitchen, taken the books which had proved most use thus far, and locked herself in her room. It was no use waiting outside, anymore; she'd spent hours poring over every spell book in existence, attempting to find something that would make Angel's soul return and revert him to the self that didn't want to kill everyone who'd ever spoken to him…Fred had come up with nothing. She was useless and incapable and stupid, and she was giving up. It wasn't safe outside, anyway; she'd tried her best to keep on going along the path of progress, knowing that Angel wouldn't want her to be taking two steps backwards for every step forward while he was...absent, but she hadn't been able to do it, not even for him. She'd snapped; sitting outside in the sun hadn't worked, and she didn't feel safe around Giles or Charles or Wesley anymore, and Fred had had something akin to a breakdown. She couldn't deal with this; she needed Angel back.

She had thought that she would be alright with the knowledge that he had become the evilest vampire ever to walk the earth, because it wasn't as though he'd been around much lately anyway, but she wasn't; Fred was scared. Terrified, actually, because she didn't want to die. More to the point, she didn't want Angel to be the one to kill her. She trusted him – _had_ trusted him – more than anybody else in the world, and he'd exploited that. Already she felt used, and Fred didn't like it. She didn't like it at all. This wasn't good, and why wasn't he fixed yet? Until they fixed him, and made him good, and she could find a way to get over how betrayed she felt by him, even though it probably wasn't his fault, Fred was not coming out of her room. Not for anybody. She was safe in here. She wouldn't go hungry, and she could try, and try, and try again to find something in one of these books that were stupid for not having 're-ensoulment' in the index, and she could try and think of something of her own that might work, and she would hide. Hiding was good; even if she was terrible at helping the person who'd helped her so much already; Fred knew she was good at hiding.

She desperately wanted to help Angel; Fred felt she owed it to him, after everything that he had done for her. Without him, she would still be stuck back in that cave, a fugitive from demons that would execute her without even a second thought, crazy half out of her mind. She loved him; she didn't know how anyone could not, when he was so brave and handsome and champion-ish, and saved crazy girls from the monsters even when he didn't know them, and let those girls stay in his hotel without ever having to pay rent and bought them ice cream and tacos and made them feel safer than they could ever remember feeling. Oh, she knew perfectly well that he would never love her back, and that it was just puppy-love anyway, but Fred couldn't help it. He was...Angel. And she had to help him. She couldn't let his soul just float away and not try and get it back – and try she had done.

She'd stayed up so late reading that the words had swum in front of her eyes, making themselves into indiscernible patterns that didn't spark something in her brain any more than the words in the correct order did. She'd gone through every spell book in the Magic Box, and tried to formulate an equation wherein _s_ symbolized the soul, going as far as attempting to break laws of nature to make _s_ the subject of the formula, and therefore reachable, without any success. Half of her wall was covered with equations now, all of them trying desperately to turn ensoulment into a science rather than a magic. Fred didn't think it was possible, though; there wasn't anything in the realms of science that talked about souls. They were not within her area of expertise, and though she tried, she couldn't bend that so that she could do something. That was all she wanted, really; if she felt like something was happening, then perhaps Fred wouldn't have felt such a drive to hide away from the world. If she believed that Angel was coming back, then she might have wanted to venture out of her room.

She wasn't sure she did believe that, though. Angelus was strong, everyone knew that (even she knew it, and people had been very careful so far to make sure that she didn't hear anything that might scare her...but Fred could read just as well as they could), and it had taken gypsy curses to get his soul back inside him before, and that spell hadn't worked this time. If it hadn't worked, didn't that mean that there was something else at play, something darker and scarier, and something that meant that it might be a long time before they got Angel back? She couldn't think that, though; Fred had to believe that he would be back, that his soul would just pop back into his body and make him good again, or she'd be crying in a corner right now. Angel was her hero, the champion who'd saved her from a life of enslavement, the one who always saved her. Without him, she'd have been nothing; a girl without a name, without a life, without anything. She had things now, and she didn't want to lose them.

Even if everyone else gave up, saying it wasn't possible, and moved on to trying to kill the vampire that was destroying half the town, Fred was determined not to give up on him. He wouldn't have given up on her – he hadn't, even when she'd been at her worst. She had to remember not to give up; Fred uncapped a pen, of which she had several dotted round her room, and wrote, _'don't give up'_ in capital letters on the wall above her bed, directly underneath where she had written Angel's name over and over, and then struck each one through with a single thick black line. He wasn't Angel anymore; she had to remember that. It was difficult, and she believed that one day, he would just turn up and be good again, but until then, she had to remember that he wasn't Angel. He was Angelus, and Angelus was evil.

ANGELUS

Angelus had favorites (who didn't?). There were several people in Sunnydale that he could, and most likely would, kill for befriending Angel alone. But, there were a few that really topped that list out. Buffy, of course, was one of them. And she would be until he finally finished her off for good, but with that girl, he had to take his time. After all, being alive was what gave her so much trouble and he had no plan of answering her death wish. It wasn't like a few years before, when Buffy's team was his main focal point. No, because Angel had gotten himself his own little team of heroes that trusted him. And instead of staying in Los Angeles, they tried to track Angel down when he didn't contact them. They cared. They cared and Angelus wanted to exploit that. Now that they knew that Angelus was out of his cage, however, there was a lot less caring and more worry, worry and no doubt plans to either ensoul or kill him. He would ensure that they didn't accomplish either. Of all of them, there was one... One that he was practically squirming to get his hands on. Fred. Sweet, scared little Fred.

Since that night in the Magic Box, she had been a very present thought. She trusted him the most. The rest of his team, while Angel thought trusted him, would always have some amount of reservation. His pathetic counterpart would have claimed he deserved it after the way he treated the team the year before (even if he did it to protect them from himself). Talk about miserable self-loathing—Angel had that down pat. If he were to kill Wesley or Gunn, he was sure it would involve a real fight. Wesley would attack the situation through his knowledge as a former watcher, and with all the disposition of a leader and protector of the team in Angel's absence. Gunn would see a soulless demon and dive into kill mode. Now, Cordelia was a woman that left him wondering. Oh, she liked Angel to think she would have no problem killing him... But, he had his suspicions otherwise. None of them were targeted that night. Eventually, he would find out for sure how each of them would react, rather than predicting their reactions. Tonight, his motives revolved around one member. And that was Fred.

If there was one person he could count on to retain hope that there was a way to bring Angel back, it was her. With Buffy's death and then her revival, Angel hadn't spent a lot of time getting to know Fred. But, he saved her from that hell dimension and she trusted him despite the monster that was inside of him. She wasn't afraid of him before. Of his entire team, she was the sweetest and most innocent of the entire group. She was a strong girl, living through all that she had, but it also left her jumbled and timid—something he could really use to his advantage. He recalled the night he found out she was in Sunnydale, and how she'd hugged to him and seemed much better with "Angel" close by. He was supposed to protect her and because she looked at Angel like some kind of hero, he imagined she wasn't so willing to let go of it. If there was any way to bring him back, he thought that it would be Fred that led that front.

Sure, he expected his friends researched it and that Buffy would want to force his soul back in him instead of killing him for a second time, but when they all gave up, he didn't think the brunette girl would. He wanted to witness the breakdown of her trust first hand. He wanted to tear at it layer by layer and expose her for the scared, crazy girl he knew she could be. And she wasn't a match for him, not physically, not even close. It was everyone else he had to worry about. After all, how could anyone want to leave Fred for the wolves? No doubt they all wanted to protect her. His team would, anyway. Angelus was a little vague on what Buffy's team was up to. With Fred in Giles' home, he was confident that he would protect her. But if he was careful, no one would be around to save her. Angelus wasn't foolish enough to attack with everyone in reach of killing him. But, he didn't sit around and wait for someone to come to him either.

He would actively lurk. While he might not come into contact with any of them on a regular basis (there'd be more death and torment if that were the case), he kept a close watch. Angelus practically invented the art of stalking. Hiding in the shadows was something that he perfected over two hundred years prior. He could keep out of sight, but it didn't necessarily mean that he wasn't paying attention to them. Now, anyone that had dealt with him before or knew even the basics of the kind of vampire he was would know it. He was always close, and letting them know it was taunting itself. But if there was ever an opening and if they ever let their guard drop, he would know about it and would be right there to seize up on the opportunity.

Creeping around Giles' property had the potential to be a dangerous task. He was well aware that Buffy's dear Watcher wouldn't have any qualms about finishing him off. He didn't think he would succeed, but he didn't want to be caught off guard either. After what happened the last time he was out, Angelus was sure that there were still bitter feelings towards him. You don't just forget about your girlfriend being propped up and left nothing more than a corpse in your bed. People move on, and they get through it, but it's never forgotten. And while his relationship with Angel seemed to improve since then, having Angelus at his doorstep was asking for a crossbow pointed at his chest. Since his team was holding up there, it was one of the places he would to stalk. That and Buffy's house, which just had that air of familiarity about it.

Giles' house should have been safe for Fred. After all, Angelus couldn't just walk inside to see her. All she had to do was stay in and he wouldn't be able to touch her. He didn't see that happening tonight. He planned to get her to let him in, to trust him enough to get close and then, she'd be his. If anyone might fall for him, he believed Fred would. Wiping the smirk of anticipation off his face, he slipped out of the shadows and rushed to the door. Dedicated to the part, Angelus' face was masked with concern and he rapped on the door. **"Fred! Fred, come to the door! —Please."** There was an urgency in his voice, the kind that only Angel would carry if the situation was that dire. It took so little for him to pull off that disguise and so easily pretended to be in a hurry or even panic over something. Fred might know that Angel lost his soul, but he didn't have any trouble pretending it was back, if only to gain trust enough to get to her. Oh, tonight, his little Fred was anything but safe.

FRED

It should have been easy to get Angel back to how he'd used to be. After all, if his soul was just floating round in the ether, how difficult could it be to capture it again? It was possible to capture individual photons, after all, invisible to the naked eye but used to determine some of the most important things in quantum physics, and Fred rather thought that a soul was bigger than that, even if it appeared to just be a bunch of glowy particles, apparently, that got caught in that orb thing. Fred didn't understand why spells to recapture it weren't working this time. It couldn't have just disappeared, because nothing ever disappeared; things were used up in reactions, or made into something else, but they were always balanced and every tiny atom was accounted for. Did that mean, then, that Angel's soul had become something else—something bad? Something empty?

Fred didn't like that idea one bit; it had to be out there, and all they needed were extremely powerful gypsies to stick it back in him...right? So, they had to get some gypsies. Even if they had to fly them over from wherever it was that they lived, surely having Angel back and good would be worth the expense of the flights? And they'd come, Fred was sure, because it had been Angelus who'd killed one of their own a century ago—at least, that was how she thought the story had gone. Fred hadn't read his past before he'd gotten his soul all too closely, because it was kind of scary, and she didn't like the thought of Angel – her Angel – being nasty like that. He wasn't; he was good. He just lost right now. His soul was lost in the sky somewhere, in that place where souls went when people died, or became vampires, and once they found it, they'd find him again. Fred knew what that was like; she understood being lost better than anybody. If that was what had happened, and she believed it was, then she owed it to Angel to help him be found again. He had given her a place in the world, but that place didn't quite exist without him in it. Angel was lost, and they had to help him, just like he had helped her. He shouldn't be lost—he had to be hating it.

Fred had hated it, after all. She knew that the two of them weren't the same – weren't anything like the same, in fact – but nobody liked being lost. First you didn't know where you were, and then slowly, you didn't know who you were, either. Even if you had a library card or a driver's license with you, you didn't know that it was you; she was just a girl from a world that was different to this one, a world that probably didn't exist because you'd spent years trying to get there to no avail, and it was simply a story to give you hope. If you believed there was something better out there and that some day you might find it, then it gave you something to keep going for. That and you didn't want to die – even when you were at your most lost, you knew you didn't want to die.

That was why Fred had kept going so long, and why she was determined to do everything she could to find Angel's soul for him. She believed it was out there, and she believed it was redeemable, and so she was going to search as long and as hard as she could for it, because even the searching for it had to be better than sitting in her room, upset because Angel was gone and she didn't feel safe, and she didn't think she _would_ feel safe again until she knew he was back and didn't want to kill her just because she happened to be someone that he had saved. What sort of logic was that, anyway? Fred (fortunately) didn't have insight into the mind of a psychopathic vampire, but it didn't make sense to her. Surely there were far more important people he could be concentrating all his will to kill on than her, since Fred didn't think she was even the remotest bit special...not that Fred wanted Angelus to kill important people or anything. She just didn't want him to kill her, either. She was quite happy being alive, thank you very much.

Maybe this wasn't living, as far as some people were concerned. Maybe they wouldn't want to spend their time hiding in a room with the light as dim as it could go while being bright enough for her to be able to read by without straining her eyes. Perhaps they wouldn't like the idea of not letting anybody in, and sitting on the middle of her bed until she passed out, trying to find something in a book. They wouldn't want to be writing on the walls, anything that might help her in some way, or huddling in a corner when the realization that Angel was gone hit her like a ton of bricks in the stomach, and she couldn't bear it. But it was good, for Fred. She was happy here – well, perhaps not happy, because Angel was an evil monster that was probably going to terrorize half the town, but that aside, she was as content as she was likely to be, given that this was a new town and she was still figuring things out in her mind. The Angelus problem had kind of put Fred's own problems on the back burner, because it was far more important to her that she figure out a way to give him his soul back, and she probably wouldn't stop until she found something that worked. Long after everyone else had given up and were going after him with stakes and crossbows, Fred would be working on the problem, because it was the only thing she _could_ do. She couldn't fight him. She couldn't attempt to capture him, or reason with him, and she knew that if it came to it, she wouldn't be able to kill him, because he wore Angel's face and Angel was her hero, and Fred could never kill him. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if she plunged a stake into his heart like he was any other vampire. He wasn't; Angel was different. Angel was special.

_"Fred! Fred, come to the door! —Please."_

Angel was...here? Fred froze, glasses sliding down her nose and pen in her hand, listening to the voice from outside. It sounded like Angel, except it couldn't, because Angel wasn't himself anymore. What was she supposed to do? She didn't think there was anyone else in at the moment, but she couldn't just leave him there. What if somehow, he was himself again? If she let him wait, then the moment Giles came back, or Gunn or Wesley, they'd stick a stake in his heart and not give him a chance to explain what had happened. If he had found a way to get his soul back, then Angel deserved the chance to explain, and if not...well, Giles had done the spell that rescinded his invitation, so he couldn't get inside anyway. Still clutching her pen, Fred cautiously opened her bedroom door, looked up and down the corridor before stepping outside, tiptoeing like she was a mouse. Did mice tiptoe? And why was the saying 'quiet as a mouse', anyway? There had been mice in the biology laboratories on campus, and they had never been quiet, so it was a bit of a stupid saying, really, if you asked her, unless by 'quiet as a mouse' they really meant 'squeak loudly'. Okay, so Fred wasn't tiptoeing like a mouse, but instead really quietly; she reached the front door, hesitating behind it for a moment.

Wesley would shout at her for doing this, Fred knew that. He only shouted when he really cared, but Fred didn't know whether he would do it this time because he cared about her being hurt, or Angelus getting one-up on everyone. But what if he wasn't Angelus anymore? Fred had to take the chance, didn't she, because nobody else would. Checking the chain was still on the door, Fred opened it the few inches it would go, peering out from behind the wood, looking up at him over the top of her glasses. **"A-Angel?"**


	2. Trust

ANGELUS

Angelus was sure that re-ensouling him would be one of the first actions that the group would take. He was sure that redhead could still accomplish the spell, and he hoped that they thought it would be as easy as it had been the first time around—not to say that that had been easy for them. And all of the work was attributed to Jenny, but now that Willow knew the curse, he was sure that it could be attempted again. He wanted them to try, because he wanted them to fail. Angelus wanted the group to lose the hope that there was any way to get him back. There wasn't as far as he was concerned. Not unless someone found a way to break through that little jar of his. And Angelus wasn't about to check the fragility of the Muo-Ping. It was made of glass, and he was sure it wouldn't take much to break it. The last thing he needed was it shattering. If his soul was returned to the ether then the curse would work and he couldn't afford that. Twice. Angelus had his soul forced on him twice now and he wasn't about to go for a third time. This time, he was back for good.

Angel was finished. He had his pathetic little run and the soulless vampire was going to do everything he could to ensure that the soul stayed safe (and out of him). If there was a way to destroy it, he would have taken that route. But, as far as he knew, it wasn't possible and he wasn't going to try and risk something else happening. And once he finished picking off everyone that had a mind to help him, he wouldn't have to be so concerned with whether or not they were working on methods to attain his soul. With all of the magic out there, and all the capabilities they could have at their fingertips, he wasn't foolish enough to think that there was absolutely no way to do it. The problem with his team and Buffy's Scooby gang was that they always found a way. It was what they were known for. As far as he was concerned, that was ending now.

The best way to deal with his problem was probably to kill them all off quick, before they had a chance to figure out where his soul was. Unfortunately, he would get practically nothing out of that. Thoughtlessly trying to slaughter everyone that had ever been semi-close to Angel lacked any artistry. It was messy, quick and completely blew off any talent that Angelus had. They were too special to just off without any thought to it. He wanted to slowly tear them apart, to watch them crumble and break. They deserved it. And if there was anybody that made the perfect target, it was Fred. She embodied much of what he might have picked out from a victim who was little more than a stranger. Only, she was so much better, because he knew her. Angel saved her. To be in danger by the one person that you trusted absolutely resonated more. There was nothing that would have stopped Angel from wanting to save her.

While he did a poor job at staying in Los Angeles, the soulless vampire didn't forget how he felt about Fred. It wasn't enough to take her out of Pylea. No, he needed to help her through all of the baggage she carried with her. He needed to set her up in a room and attempt to bring her back around to sanity again. He wanted to protect her, and to give her a chance to have a life again. If that wasn't a reason to go after her, then Angelus didn't know what was. Angelus wanted to use that sweetness to his advantage, to push her farther than her jumbled mind already was. He wondered if the group even considered how much he wanted to get his hands on Fred. Even if they did, he was sure that they thought her safe while she was inside the house. Technically, they weren't wrong. But, Angelus thought there were ways to get past that door. As long as she was willing to believe everything he said, then he'd have his way.

The plan wouldn't work on anyone, Angelus knew that. If Giles, Wesley or Gunn were around, he was sure that they wouldn't fall for his little act. It might be convincing, but they were too safe to give him the benefit of the doubt. None of Buffy's friends would be easy either; but after they dealt with him the first time around, he knew what to expect. He could play on the hope he thought Fred would still have, though. And why would she give up on him? He was her hero! Angel wouldn't give up on her and it would be incredibly disappointing if she decided to give up on him. Now, he wouldn't want her to succeed at bringing him back. That would destroy every one of his plans. But, he did want her to be invested enough to look at him and try to see the vampire that wouldn't have hurt her. It was easy for him to play the part. Even before he had a soul, Angelus knew how to play on people's trust. It wasn't a new found skill.

Angel's history with his friends was just a helpful part of it. He didn't gain his reputation for being unable to lure people to him. He was believable. And it was better when they didn't just believe him, but they believed in him. Angelus could use that to his advantage forever. He was unstoppable with that kind of trust backing him up. And as long as no one came back before he accomplished what he set out to do that night, then he wouldn't be troubled with someone trying to kill him on the spot. They would know the games he liked to play.

Angelus restrained himself from smiling when he heard her on the other side of the door. If he dropped the act for even one moment, he ran the risk of her discovering that he wasn't genuine. When it opened, Angelus wasn't surprised to see that the chain lock was still in place. Although, the whole idea of keeping it there seemed a little silly. For one, he couldn't get past the threshold if he tried, and if he was allowed in, it wouldn't take him a lot of effort to break the door open. Whatever made her feel "safe" though. He couldn't argue with that. When she opened the door, he looked away from her, glancing around as if making sure no one else was around. While the distrust in him from everyone else would have been a method of protecting themselves and Fred, Angelus was going to use it to explain why he would be there only for Fred in the first place. Knowing how quick they would be to kill him, he could use it to fuel Angel's urgency and worry that someone else was going to show up and finish him off before he had a chance to talk.

His dark eyes went to Fred, disguised behind a cover of worry and a tinge of desperation. When he saw her, he looked almost relieved, but not quite. **"Fred. Fred, I need your help. Let me in,"** he requested, putting his hand up to where the threshold stopped him. He kept the franticness in his voice, making it out to be a necessity that she let him in. He suspected that it wouldn't be a simple process, where he asked and she just opened the door right up for him. But, he had full confidence that he would be invited eventually. No one else would even dare to do it. And just because he thought Fred would, didn't say anything about her intelligence. No, it was all a game of trust, and using that kindness that he knew she had to his advantage. The girl was genius, but if she trusted her hero the way he thought she did, then it was going to be Angelus' lucky night and one of her worst.

FRED

Fred had known that the transition to Sunnydale wouldn't be easy; she might have had five years less worldly-smarts than other people her age, but she wasn't naïve enough to believe that life would just slot straight back into place. The holes had become misshapen, the pieces that were supposed to fit in them jagged and too large, and Fred didn't really think that they were ever quite going to fit again. There could be an approximation, but it wouldn't be the same. She didn't want it to be the same; she wasn't the same girl who'd been studying physics at UCLA five years ago. Whatever way she looked at the world was never going to change. To try and convince herself otherwise would have been stupid, and there were a lot more things that she could be focusing her efforts on. But she'd not quite imagined it being this hard.

She'd accounted for meeting new people, and learning to trust them. She'd known that she might not have her own space straight away, although Giles had been very good about giving her a bedroom that she could call her own, and not being too cross when he discovered her writing on the walls, and Fred really appreciated that. She'd worked out the probability of encountering a demon when walking down the street, given that Sunnydale was on a Hellmouth and therefore a centre for demonic activity, although of course, she was no longer walking down streets. She wasn't going outside again, not until Angel was himself once more. But all her plans, all her calculations and statistics and models, had not even thought of the possibility that Angelus might return, and spells to return his soul wouldn't work, and that she would be so scared, all of the time. This wasn't supposed to happen; Fred was well aware that things rarely went to plan, but all the same...this shouldn't have happened. Not ever. Angel was good, and the Champion and he needed to stay that way. What good was cursing him with a soul so he would suffer, if that soul could be taken away just like that and he wouldn't care anymore? Angelus had no conscience. The idea of that scared Fred a lot.

_"Fred. Fred, I need your help. Let me in,"_

Her help? Why, of everyone, would he need her help? Fred wasn't good at any of the things that made a person useful in this world of vampires, demons and magic. She couldn't fight, she couldn't do spells, she couldn't—well, she couldn't do anything, really. She'd just started to feel like she might be able to find something in this world that she could do, creating weapons and using the knowledge that just seemed to appear in her mind though no fault of her own to get one-up on the particularly tricky demons, but then they'd moved to Sunnydale and she'd had to readjust again, and it had set her more than a couple of steps back. Things might have been better by now, if Angelus hadn't made himself known, so now Fred was back to feeling as though she were useless. If she'd been better, she would have known how to get Angel back without allowing his evil alter ego to kill people. If she'd been better, she wouldn't have let him down, and caused him to go away without letting anyone know in the first place, and she wouldn't have disappointed him so he felt like he couldn't keep a hold of his soul. Maybe it wasn't all her fault, but Fred certainly felt like it was her fault he was still lost.

She was supposed to be the clever one – everyone said so, even if she didn't see it. Academic smarts, knowing things about physics that her friends couldn't even wrap their heads round, and being able to solve sums in her head and work out how things went together without thinking...that wasn't being clever. It had no place in this world, and she wasn't even sure that she could use it to bring Angel back. And he needed to be back—she needed him to be back. Except that now he was here, though Fred hadn't gotten further than attempting to (theoretically) condense matter so that it could be sifted through for remnants of his soul, and he appeared to be him. She wanted to open the door wide, and wrap her arms around him, and tell him that she was so sorry she hadn't tried harder and that next time – not that there would be a next time – she wouldn't sleep at all until she figured out how to get his soul back...but she remembered the hypothetical Wesley shouting at her for being stupid, and Giles with that disapproving look he often had, and Angel himself, so disappointed that she had let her hope get the better of her. Angel was here, but Fred had to be careful. That was okay; she was good at being careful.

She wanted to believe, though. Fred needed to believe that this was Angel outside the door, that she didn't have to hide behind the block of wood because he had no desire to help her. If she couldn't hope that he'd got better, that his soul had come back, then Fred didn't think she could go on pretending that she wasn't slowly going crazy without the stability and strength that he just projected comforting her. She knew that she couldn't rely on a single person forever, but Fred also knew that she couldn't quite trust herself to take all the weight just that; Angel held her up when she felt like she was falling down – sometimes literally – and she'd been so lost not knowing where he was. It had been one thing when he'd run off almost the second they'd got back from Pylea, and she'd shut her door and barely come out of her room for three months, but this time had been different. This time, she wasn't crazy. Well, not that crazy. Just a bit confused in her mind still, and it had been worse without him around. Angel always saved her, and Fred didn't quite think she was ready to save herself yet.

"**How do I know?"** she asked, her voice quiet, but despite her vocal caution, she edged out from behind the door, closer to the gap left by the chain, her glasses sliding down her nose unchecked as she battled with the relief and fear she felt to keep her face somewhat neutral. She didn't think she managed it, though; relief was definitely the winner, because he sounded like Angel, and it felt like he was Angel, and though everyone else would be distrustful of him, Fred couldn't help herself. She needed him too much. **"How do I know you're not tricking me?"** she clarified, her voice louder now as she looked up at him, categorizing his expression and trying to find some fault in it, some crack that would prove he was Angelus playing with her head. She couldn't find anything. Fred thought he was Angel. Maybe she only thought it because she wanted it so badly, but she thought it nonetheless.

"**I'll, uh, I'll go call Wesley,"** she said, suddenly flustered, stepping away from the door, but still looking at him through the gap. **"He'll know. He always knows. And he can help. I can't—I don't think I can help you, Angel."**

ANGELUS

"_How do I know you're not tricking me?"_

There would never be proof of whether or not he was telling the truth. Nothing physically changed when he lost or regained his soul—not that he could see anyway. There were demons that could pick up on it. Sometimes other vampires realized it immediately, yet others didn't seem to notice either way. Lorne, he was sure, could read him and figure it out, and Buffy, she had a way of knowing something was off. Of course, any option that would tell her whether or not he was tricking her was out of the question given that that was exactly what he was doing. While he loathed the thought of receiving his soul again, the thought that his friends wouldn't be able to trust Angel if he came back was mildly comforting. He would have nothing left. Nothing worth fighting for, and nothing to connect him to humanity. Then, it would only be a matter of time before he gave up completely.

Angelus didn't want to have to cross that bridge, but the time he was finished with everyone he cared about, the vampire with a soul wouldn't want to exist. There were some things that couldn't be forgiven. Forgiveness was an absurd hope for a vampire anyway. Angel didn't deserve it, especially not now. He could pretend that he was a Champion, and that he was a hero, but it didn't change what he had done and how he much he enjoyed it at the time. And even with a soul, Angelus was still there. He never disappeared, and it couldn't be that easy to face him, not after everything he would do to them. He just hoped he never had to find out how they'd react. Decisively, removing that thought from his head, Angelus needed more of a plan to get her to trust him. So, instead of trying to prove himself, his expression dropped, as if he had been struck with the hopelessness of his situation. **"You can't,"** he said, filling his voice with pure guilt.

Since he couldn't necessarily prove himself to her, he thought he could eventually bring her around to understand how impossible it was. Trying to explain how evil he wasn't wouldn't be convincing enough and hardly the sacrificial Angel that he knew and loathed. The bastard would only be reminded of how much he hurt his friends by a comment like that. And he would try to accept that he couldn't make up for it. The more he pretended, the more he remembered how much he hated his ensouled counterpart. It was pathetic. But, his pathetic act was the one ticket he had through that door.

Angelus tried to choose the perfect moment to come out of the shadows to see Fred; one where he would have plenty of time to get inside and to get Fred out of it before anyone showed up to ruin his plans. These things took time, and he was tired of people interrupting him. The town was full of heroes, far more than it had been last time he was loose in Sunnydale. He wasn't going to be reduced to the level of an annoyance that never quite succeeded. They feared him now and he would make sure that they kept on fearing him. Laying low helped at first, since it kept him from being a direct target. If they could attack him when he wasn't looking, then it'd be over for him. It was better to be able to slip in and take what he wanted. Angelus had tact. Something that a lot of vampires lacked severely. They were too impatient and didn't take time to enjoy the plan.

And now, as much as he hated the persona he took on to trick Fred, he had the patience to carry it out. The door was the first blockade. After that, everything would run smoothly for him. But, if he never got in through the door, then his plans would be halted before they started. He doubted he would ever be able to trick any of the others into letting him inside. Oh, and wouldn't they be angry if they knew what was happening now? They would be more than angry when he was finished.

"_I'll, uh, I'll go call Wesley,"_

He should have expected that. It was a smart move—call the former watcher to figure out whether or not he was soulless to protect her. And surely he would. No doubt the once prissy Englishman would have no trouble in informing her not to let him in and dutifully try to run him off. If it came down to a fight, the vampire was confident that he could win. That wasn't troubling to him. Sure, Wes had weapons, and the group could try to gang up on him, but Wesley alone... Oh, he wasn't afraid of that. But, he wasn't looking to fight either. He was looking to avoid one, unless it was Fred that wanted to try the fighting. In which case, he wouldn't be complaining at all. But, he imagined her fighting wouldn't be punching and kicking as much as struggling. **"No!"** Angelus exclaimed, pressing his hands to the threshold again to try to stop her.

**"He has no reason to believe me. They're not ready yet, they can't know."** His voice went calm, but holding to that slight desperation that he needed her and only her. **"I've done too much, Fred. I've..."** He trailed off, as if the memory was too strong to say out loud. Looking down for a moment, his dark eyes took a few extra seconds to dart back to look at Fred. **"Please. Invite me in." **If there had been any real danger, Fred would have probably been one of the last people that Angel went to to help him. After all, she couldn't be expected to face down the demons that Gunn or Wesley could. But, he never used that as a reason for needing her help either. **"You can,"** he encouraged. **"You're the only one that'll trust me."** Angelus explained. She was the only one he thought had hope enough to believe in his games. The only other time it was likely to work was with people that didn't know his soul was gone. **"You trust me, don't you Fred?" **


	3. Faith

FRED

It was down to trust, then, and belief, since Angel couldn't confirm one way or another whether he was truly himself or not. Fred didn't believe for a moment that Angelus would actually say he was tricking her, because he wasn't just another vampire grunt, but actually had brains—but it was worth a try, anyway. Maybe he would slip up if he was tricking her, but so far, everything told her that he wasn't lying. She was comparing how he held himself to her memories of him, and sure, he seemed smaller, and more ashamed, but that was understandable, given that he'd just killed people and probably had all their screams echoing in his head in a way that Fred couldn't even begin to understand, given that she'd never actually killed anybody. **"I-I can't tell,"** she said apologetically, as though it were her fault she couldn't quite trust him; it was. If she'd been smarter, and worked through her books sooner, and actually come up with a solution instead of huddling in the corner, terrified of what might happen if Angelus found her, then she would know for sure that this was Angel on the doorstep, and not be wary of the one person she wanted to be able to trust more than anything. She was supposed to have helped him, and found a cure, and not left it up to how much she believed him to decide whether or not he was really Angel again or not; belief couldn't be measured empirically, and right now, Fred thought she needed some solid proof. She didn't want to get tricked, and played, and treated like an idiot; if she was wrong, then Wesley and Giles would never forgive her. But...if she was right, and this was Angel, he needed her to trust him. Nobody else would. **"I can't tell, Angel."**

She knew, though; it couldn't be measured, or explained, or even trusted properly, but Fred felt that it was Angel who stood on the other side of the doorway, and he needed her to believe him. Fred had never been needed before, not by Angel, who was always so strong, so sure of everything. She hadn't been able to be the one to help him before, because she was scared and weak, but she was almost most willing to believe. Out of all of them, Fred could see that she was the least skeptical, because she had the most to lose by not having Angel in her life. The others would cope fine, and Wesley was a good leader of Angel Investigations, and their lives would go on, but Fred...Fred needed Angel.

Everyone else was nice, and she trusted them with her life, but they weren't him. They weren't the one who had saved her, and given her a name and a home and a life again. Without him, Fred might just as well have been as lost as she'd first been when she'd come back to Los Angeles. For that matter, she would have still been stuck in a cave in a dimension where they wanted to chop her head off just because she wasn't going to be their cow-slave. And he was desperate—anyone could see how desperate Angel was. He had come to her because he needed someone who believed in him even when the odds were against him, and Fred knew that was her. She had been determined not to give up on him, and by shutting the door in his face now, wouldn't she be doing just that? She was so confused! She could hear the others in her head, telling her that she was idiotic to even believe him for a second...but it was Angel who was standing in front of her, looking like he had lost everything. He had helped her when she had had nothing, and maybe it was time for Fred to return the favour.

_"You trust me, don't you Fred?" _

Of course she trusted him; Fred trusted Angel more than she trusted anybody else in the entire world. Did he not think that she did, or was it more that he thought he'd betrayed that trust by becoming evil and going round killing a lot of people? It wasn't Angel's fault that his soul had been taken away, as far as Fred could see; there was some clause in his curse that made it so that he couldn't be perfectly happy, but nobody seemed to think that had happened this time, as it apparently had the last time Angelus had been terrorizing Sunnydale. Fred had asked, but nobody seemed to know how the most evil vampire in the entire world had got back out at all. He just was...and now it seemed that he was back to being good in much the same manner – just, nobody knew what it was. She nodded mutely in reply, thinking his words through; it made sense that nobody else would trust him, that there would be stakes first and questions later, and by that time it would be too late, and Angel, her Angel, would be a pile of ashes on the ground. She couldn't let that happen; if she had to convince every single person in the Magic Box that he was really himself again, then Fred would.

She pushed the door to in order to slide off the chain, still hiding half-behind it as she opened it wider, cautious as she looked at Angel properly. He looked just the same as normal; worried, like he thought Wesley might come along any second and shove a stake through his heart because he'd done bad things this time around, and Fred didn't think that he would be able to look like that if he were even the tiniest bit evil. She lifted up a hand, pressing it to the barrier that she could neither see nor feel, the one that was blocking Angel from coming into the house, just a thin piece of magic blocking the bad vampires from getting at innocent people. **"You're really you?"** she asked quietly, stepping backwards and holding the door open. **"If you're really you, you can come in."**

ANGELUS

In order for it to work, he needed her trust. If she remained a skeptic and never let him in, then Angelus wouldn't stand a chance at doing anything more than standing at her threshold trying to convince her that he was Angel. The way to be convincing, he thought, was to practice the guilt and the desperation for someone to trust him. If he acted like the soul was a painful burden, one that was weighing him down from the inside out, then it'd be more understandable. He counted on it being difficult to think of a friend as evil when they were reaching out with that kind of desperation. The pain of having a soul and paying for every dirty thing he ever did was not one that he could forget. Even if he preferred forgetting the pathetic state Angel drifted into when he was cursed. He might not be able to feel it, because he was incapable of that kind of human emotion. Remorse was easy to approximate in an act, but he was unable to experience it on his own and he was grateful that disgusting human emotions didn't plague him. He was a vampire, a vampire with no interest in being anything close to a human. That was what Angel hoped for.

Despite being the farthest thing from human, the vampire with a soul strived to have that human connection and to feel anything resembling real emotion. It made Angelus sick and it was so predictably boring. But, no matter how close the so-called Champion came, he couldn't be fooled into thinking he was less of a demon. That was what he was. An evil demon forced beneath the mask of a good guy. Angel wasn't meant to exist. It was Angelus. Right now, he needed the dismal hero to play on Fred's conscience—to make it nearly impossible to leave him on the other side of the door. He would spin not trusting him into giving up hope. And hope was something that her friend wouldn't have done to her and hopefully she would remember that. Remember it well enough to fall for his games. He wasn't going to admit to her skepticism as being smart or that her inability to trust was the wrong course. If she wanted to stay alive then it was the best thing for her. But, Angelus didn't care about her well being. He cared about his own pleasure.

**"Look at me,"** he didn't sound convinced that that would help. If anything, he sounded like he was shooting in the dark, attempting to give her whatever he could to make her believe him, but at the same time realizing that there was absolutely nothing that could give her full trust. He pretended that it hurt and that he was even more lost at that kind of realization. Looking at him wouldn't do any good. It wasn't as if the two were any different in physical appearance and while his movements and stance tended to hold more of a dramatic air than Angel's, he had no problem taking on his every move. It worked both ways too. Having a soul might have changed the way he acted, but it didn't make him incapable as acting as if he had one, or Angel acting as if it was gone. If he wasn't pretending though, the malice and cruelty would have slipped so easily into his expression; into his eyes. Right now, he didn't let up. He was sure that Fred was studying him for any mistake and for any reason to see through an act that might get her killed. It was precisely why he was being strict on his game. She hadn't been able to experience what he was capable of yet. He counted on her not knowing how convincing he was, or how easily he could use the belief of a friend to tear them apart. What he assumed was that she was filled in on little details. Surely the group wouldn't leave her in the dark about how he might behave. But, hearing stories wasn't the same as experiencing it. Oh, but Angelus was a generous vamp, he'd give her that chance. Buffy's friends (aside from the ones that he'd never had the pleasure of meeting the last time he was free in Sunnydale) already knew him. They already witnessed him. While he wasn't pulling out the same stops he did the first time, he was sure that none of them would even consider opening the door for him if he showed up like that.

"_You're really you? If you're really you, you can come in."_

The time she took to make her decision, Angelus progressively became a little more anxious. By all means it would be difficult to keep that kind of patience if he was waiting to be let in and in that kind of emotional state. Especially when there were people out there that would be more than comfortable wielding a weapon before talking to him. It made him wonder if the same thing would have happened to Angel if he did regain his soul. Would they attack him without thought? Without belief? Oh, that would just kill him. And it should. Right now, there was a real risk of being interrupted and he wasn't going to stand around and test their protective instinct over Fred. It was strong. He already knew that. Angelus knew his team and he wondered if any of them forgot it. Angel knew each one of them probably even better than they considered, because he didn't comment on every little thing he discovered, heard or became aware of. Every observance of character was Angelus' the same it was Angel's. His hand moved to hover right in front of Fred's, feeling the magic barrier beneath him. He nodded, insisting that he was really him. **"I am,"** and then... The invitation came.

An interesting invitation at that: '_If you're really you'_ He understood what she meant by making that little clarification, but it was impossible not to be himself, regardless of that fluffy little soul. He couldn't necessarily be someone else, could he? No, and that was what made the barrier give way beneath his fingertips. It didn't necessarily matter if she meant the invitation to only work for Angel. It didn't work that way. Besides, they weren't technically two separate vampires. With the door held open, he walked right through and inside before turning. **"Thank you, I didn't know who else to go to. They'll kill me, they ****should****—I'm sorry, Fred."** He wanted her comfortable enough to get away from the door. As much as he was ready to drop the act and get down to the part he would relish in, the vampire didn't want to run the risk of her finding out in seconds and running out the front door and into the night. Now, he could catch her if she decided to take that route. Angelus wasn't questioning his speed. But, it would be an extra amount of work he didn't want to take part in. He wanted to be able to take her straight from the house, to let them know he'd been inside when he got a hold of her. It was a huge affront and while he wanted Fred badly, he thought he could kill two birds with one stone and let Giles and Angel Investigations aware that they weren't safe... Anywhere.

FRED

How could she even think of letting him down? Part of life was believing in yourself, trusting in your instincts enough to make a leap of faith, and though Fred remained wary, she didn't know how she could really refuse to help Angel. Wasn't that what she had been trying to do, alone in her room? All the flipping frantically though books, writing on walls and thinking aloud until her brain hurt and her eyes were fuzzy—that was all for Angel. He would do the same for her, if she got lost again; Fred didn't doubt for a second that if something happened to her, Angel would come and save her. So now it was her turn. It was her turn to be the one on the outside, instead of the victim, trapped inside her cave, and it was her turn to find the answer. She always found the answer; it might take a while to come to her, but there was always one there. Even the most seemingly impossible problems had solutions, and those solutions were normally far simpler than their problem might have betrayed; Fred was sure that this was one of those situations. The answer was simple: save Angel. How she got to that point, though, was problematic. Did she trust him now, and hope that that was it? Simple methods were often deceiving, or proved to cause complications later, but it seemed so perfect. Ignoring him meant that she was giving up on him, and there was no way that Fred was ever doing this. Even if they sent him to hell, she would search for a way to bring him back and make him good again. The world was a better place with Angel in it. And he was right here.

Angel was here, on the doorstep, and all she needed to do was believe. It wasn't a story, or a lie, or a game made up to make things easier; it was real. Sometimes it was hard to work out what was a reality, and what was simply a faded memory or a fabricated falsehood to make things easier, but Fred knew this was real. She knew Angel was standing out there – if she dared to reach out her hand, she could touch him – and she knew that he needed her. All she had to do was take a leap of faith. And that was hard—what if she was wrong? What if he was so good an actor that he'd fooled her, and he killed her the second he crossed the threshold? What if she wanted this so badly that she was just kidding herself, a foolish girl who should have stayed locked in her room and let the grown-ups deal with this? But that was exactly why he'd come here, and come here now; because the grown-ups wouldn't believe him. Fred did. She just had to convince herself that letting him in was the right thing to do.

_"Look at me,"_

At his words, Fred looked up, taking off her glasses and folding them, putting them into her pocket, regarding Angel with searching eyes; she was searching for any indication that she was wrong to trust him, that she should just shut the door in his face and go and cry in her room until someone came home and found her. Why did he have to come now, when she was the only person here? She understood it, from his point of view, because everyone else would be less willing to believe in him, because he had always been a monster to them—but to her, he was the guy who'd saved her from the monsters. That didn't change, even if he'd temporarily become one. Fred viewed Angel and Angelus as two different people, even if they shared the same body, the same memories...it wasn't Angel's fault he'd had his soul ripped away, any more than it was her fault she'd tumbled through a portal into Pylea. It wasn't as though Fred could see any reason why Angelus would want to talk to her, anyway, aside from wanting to hurt her, but then, why would he go to all this effort to pretend to be Angel? Fred wasn't one of the special ones in the group; she wasn't Buffy, or Faith or Willow, and she wasn't Giles or Wesley—she was just...Fred. Fred who hid in her room all day, working on a way to find Angel's soul, even when everyone told her it was a lost cause and she could give up.

And see, she'd been right not to give up. Here he was, and she didn't know whether it was one of the muttered spells she'd attempted or pure coincidence, but he was himself again. She just knew, and she had to trust him; opening the door was all it would take to prove that Fred trusted Angel without a doubt. Even if she was terrified, it was would be worth it, to have him back. She'd been waiting for him to be back for months.

_"Thank you, I didn't know who else to go to. They'll kill me, they should—I'm sorry, Fred."_

Fred looked down at their hands, so close to touching; it was how she felt all the time. So close to everyone, close to normality, close to sanity...but just that slight gap separating her from them. Just a little further to go before she was there, and there was always a distance. With Angel, she'd never felt that; he had been the only one to accept her how she'd been, and she missed that. Everyone here looked out for her, sometimes to the point of being too protective, but Fred yearned for that gap to close and for her to be part of the group, or normal, or sane...or touching Angel's hand, reassured that by stepping back and letting him into the house, she had done the right thing. It wasn't even her house, after all; she just lived here now. She quietly shut the door behind him, wrapping her arms around her middle, uncertain around Angel in a way that she'd never been before. He'd been drinking human blood, so did that mean that she would smell more like a meal to him than she once might have done? She didn't want to even be temping, but just the idea made her heart beat faster, like it was thudding in her chest, trying to get out. **"I don't know how I can help you,"** she whispered, looking at him cautiously, still wary even though she trusted him enough to let him inside.

There was a difference between giving him shelter, after all, and trying to convince a whole group of stake-happy skeptics that he was really himself again, when she was the only person who believed him redeemable. Everyone was redeemable, and everyone needed redeeming. This was her chance to help Angel, if only she knew how she could do it. But she didn't know; for all the things going round in her head, all the things she was currently working out, Fred didn't know how to help. Still watching him, she edged towards the telephone, picking it up and shrugging apologetically before beginning to dial. **"I can tell Wesley, Angel. He won't kill you—I won't let him kill you, but I'm not the right person to help you."**


End file.
